


Coming to an understanding

by Nary



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Marriage of Convenience, Sex, Snark, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They hadn't really talked about <i>that</i> part of being married, and now Alistair was wishing they had, even if she'd just said "keep your grubby paws off me," so he'd know where they stood. He had no experience with this sort of thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming to an understanding

The wedding ceremony went slightly better than the coronation, if only because Alistair had learned from his previous mistake and didn't try to take Anora's hand. Instead, she let her fingertips rest lightly on his arm as they left the chantry, and dropped all pretence of affection as soon as possible in order to wave to the crowds lining the streets on their way back to the palace.

At the grand banquet afterwards, with all the banns and arls and teyrns in attendance, Alistair's attention was mainly on not making a fool of himself by, say, spilling the gravy or wiping his mouth on the tablecloth. But he wasn't so distracted that he didn't notice his new bride refilling her goblet several times with the heady Orlesian red. She could certainly hold her alcohol for such a slender girl, he thought with a hint of admiration. She didn't even stagger when she got up from the table and left with her maids, presumably to ready herself for bed.

Bed. They hadn't really talked about that part of being married, and now Alistair was wishing they had, even if she'd just said "keep your grubby paws off me," so he'd know where they stood. He had no experience with this sort of thing, even apart from the whole 'being king' business, and wasn't sure whether he was expected to show up at her chamber, or whether she would come to him, let alone what precisely he was supposed to do if and when they were alone together.

The servants escorted him to his rooms, helped him out of the stiff and cumbersome wedding clothing, and then left him alone. "Well, you're no help at all," he muttered as the door closed with a thud of doom.

"Who, me?"

Alistair jumped, startled by the sound of his wife's voice. "Wha…? Where did you come from?"

Anora, clad in nothing more than her shift, her hair loose and crinkled from its braids, nodded to the tapestry that covered one wall. "My chambers are adjacent, you know. There's a passageway. Not even a particularly secret one." Her tone of voice suggested she still thought he was a bit slow.

It dawned on him that rooms he had been given were formerly King Cailan's, and so Anora was probably used to slipping through the hidden door to her husband's bed at night... He pushed those thoughts from his mind, uncomfortable, and tried to smile for her. "Well, now that you're here..."

"We can talk," she said briskly, not at all like a woman who'd just put away an entire bottle of wine by herself. "We have important matters to discuss, after all."

Alistair, recognizing the tone of voice from innumerable lectures during his days with the Templars, settled in for what he presumed would be a lengthy and tedious conversation.

"Heirs," Anora began without further preamble.

"Huh?"

"Offspring," she clarified, and then, "children," as if the words might have been a bit on the complex side for him. "They're very important."

"Yes, troublesome little buggers though they can be... hope of the future and all that..."

"Politically important," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "If, Andraste forfend, anything should happen to you, I'm not going to find myself pushed aside again. But if we have a child, then I can rule for him - or her - as Regent..."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Alistair said, processing all of this. "You're saying you want to have a baby in case I get myself killed."

"Yes, very good, Alistair. I trust they explained to you in the Chantry what needs to take place in order for that to occur?"

"The getting killed part I'm very clear on, and would like to avoid if at all possible. The baby part... uh, in general terms, yes, I know how it works."

"Good," she said with no hint of a smile. "I was worried I'd have to draw pictures."

"Hey!" His protestations were quickly stifled when she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. It was tense and rather experimental - her lips were firm and unyielding, but warm and moist and tasting of wine, and oh, that was nice, that thing she was doing with her hips...

He let her steer him to the bed, the one she'd shared with his half-brother, and push him down onto the soft mattress. He sank into it and they floundered around awkwardly for a time, her struggling to work her shift up around her waist, him just trying not to spill as soon as she touched him, or elbow her in the face, and then, suddenly, they came together and it was nothing like he'd imagined, not even a little.

"Is it always like this?" he managed to gasp as she leaned to rest her hands on the headboard, her golden hair spilling down around them.

"No," she said, her voice as controlled as ever, "it can potentially be much more interesting. But I'm not prepared to try anything more creative until I get what I want." She looked down at him, impassive. "Oh, and if you're trying to hold back, don't bother. There's not much point."

"Not much point? Should I be offended?" He thrust up into her harder, jolting them both, and she gasped, just a little, which made him unreasonably pleased, and then worried, in case it wasn't the good kind of gasp.

"You have... unh... no idea what you're doing, idiot," she said, her voice jarred by the roughness of their movements.

"Show me what to do, then, if I'm an idiot." Alistair lifted his neck so he could reach her breasts, kissing them through the fine linen of her shift

"It shouldn't be my job to explain!" Anora said, drawing back. "Grey Wardens aren't celibate, so what's your excuse?"

"I was waiting for the right person," he said simply.

She sniffed at that, as if virginity were some foolish indulgence he'd allowed himself, but her eyes slid away from his and he wondered if she was thinking of Cailan. "Just hurry up and finish," she told him through gritted teeth.

"What's the rush?" he asked.

"I just... I don't..." she stammered, the first time he'd ever seen her at a loss for words. Her urgent movements gradually stilled until she sat, straddling him, head downturned. He could feel her body all around him, so close and yet so distant. Her voice was almost inaudible. "I don't want to... to..."

"Enjoy yourself?"

"Betray him," she muttered, still not looking at him.

"Oh," Alistair said, feeling suddenly envious of the dead brother he hardly knew, the one who'd been lucky enough to be loved by this remarkable woman. "You're not?" he suggested warily. "I mean, surely he'd understand that you'd have to move on after he..."

"This is his _bed_ ," she cried suddenly, "and I, I, oh Maker, I can't do this, I thought I could but I'm not strong enough..." She tried to scramble away from him, but Alistair held her tight, not letting her escape that easily, and getting what would probably turn into a black eye for his pains.

"I'm not going to replace him," he said when she'd settled again. "And you're not going to forget him."

"No," she agreed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand even though, as far as he'd been able to see, she hadn't shed any tears. "You're right. I'm being soft, and we can't afford that..."

Speaking of soft, he had slipped out of her during their struggles, and he expected that was probably it for the night anyway, given her unpredictable mood. But Anora was more stubborn than he knew. She stroked him with her hands, even bending down to tease him with the tip of her sharp tongue, and soon he was hard for her again.

"Please," he said, not even sure what he was begging for, but she knew, and tugged her shift off entirely, tossing it aside before she eased herself down onto him again, slow and gentle. "Show me," Alistair pleaded, his voice gone husky, "what you want." And so she did, guiding his hands and mouth and hips until she was squirming urgently atop him, her own fingers working where they joined. He thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful as her face when she finally let herself go. He was so distracted, in fact, that his own orgasm took him half by surprise when it welled up suddenly, making him moan and arch against her body, clutching her to him with a fierce grip that threatened to leave bruises the next day.

"Sorry," he told her when he could speak again, hurriedly unclasping his arms to set her free.

"Don't be," Anora said, rolling over to lie beside him. "You're a quick learner, and in the end we both got what we wanted. This may just work out," she added, pensive.

"So you won't have to have me killed once our heirs are safely born?" he joked (at least, he sincerely hoped he was joking). Anora didn't answer, but let him stroke her hair until he finally fell asleep.


End file.
